The Romances of Maury Parkman, Part 2
by Gamebird
Summary: Maury Parkman courts Angela Petrelli, the object of his adoration and respect. Will she accept him, or turn him away?
1. Shared Sweetness

**A/N: Title "Shared sweetness." After some thought, I've decided to break the Romances of Maury Parkman into a part 1 and 2. Part 1 contained graphic sex (rated M). Part 2 does not. It's a romance. Rated K.**

**Some of the first paragraphs would make more sense if you've read Shattered Identity (****Favors Unasked For, which was chapter 46) ****and/or the Bonus Scenes (Maury's Capture, chapter 7). This chapter is set the day after those events, though I don't think you strictly need to have read them to follow the story.**

It was the day after Peter had drug Maury to Angela's place with a split lip and a bloody nose. His arm and knee still hurt, despite a handful of painkillers and several ice packs. Maury supposed he should have given up when he realized his powers were nullified instead of trying to fight it out with a man forty years his junior, but he hadn't been thinking straight. He'd felt his son's life flicker and fade into nothingness through the link they shared, the night before. Now Parkman's task was to track down the various agents and employees he'd subverted in an attempt to gain a small measure of revenge against Matt's killer, Gabriel Grey.

Whatever had happened to his son, it wasn't quick. Death usually took less than five minutes and sometimes as little as seconds if the brain was damaged directly. Matt's took over half an hour and his father had been aware of it the whole time, in spikes of emotion and phantoms of pain through the link. Knowing nothing else seemed harder to manage than details, but Matt was too far away for the elder to pick up anything better.

Maury resented Gabriel enormously for how long it had taken – not so much the death itself, as he'd known that was coming for quite a while - but that it wasn't quick or clean. He'd tried to talk to Angela about it. She clearly didn't want to hear it. She'd had to face an unpleasant future many times, standing by silently and letting it unfold at great cost. He also resented Arthur, who'd orchestrated the whole thing. Mrs. Petrelli was more inclined to listen to criticism of her absent husband.

The agents Maury had turned weren't hard to find. Maury knew who he'd been at, so unlike Gabriel, he didn't have to go through everyone to find the right people. Gabriel had had to seek out the people hunting him and been shot for his trouble a few times. Maury found that a little satisfying. Parkman could call people and require they come to him, making it even simpler. He was also doing clean-up, fixing the mistakes Gabe had made as a result of his inexperience with the ability.

They started early. The worst cases for him to fix had been in Philadelphia and New York. Even so, he and Angela were on their way to Baltimore by 10 am. The people from the Washington office would meet them there at 3. They included two Gabriel had missed. Maury had considered leaving them loose to surprise the man later, but it was a poor way to treat the agents, given Gabriel's tendency to overreact. He'd killed one of the people who acted against him and nearly done the same to another. Angela was right - Maury shouldn't make the Company assets part of his feud.

Maury had made reservations for two at an upscale seafood restaurant. They dumped off Michael with the car, leaving him to find his own lunch. They'd call him when they were done. The drive down had been strictly business, with both of them having laptops with roving uplinks. The silence had helped him focus and think about something other than Matt.

He had a second goal, a second revenge, but this time against Arthur. He wanted to threaten Angela – not in any real fashion, not to threaten to harm her – but to threaten Arthur's hold over her, his possession of her, his ownership of her. Arthur Petrelli was territorial and possessive, traits he shared with Maury. His control of his wife had never been perfect and he'd been stung badly by her infidelity. It was a wound that had never healed. Maury intended to poke it until it bled.

The lunch rush was over when they were shown to their table at 12:45. Maury limped along with a cane and insisted Angela let him seat her. He looked a sight, but the waiter was kind enough not to comment, even if he thought it was somewhat humorous for a man of his age to have been in a fist fight. Maury squinted at the menu and frowned, then wiped at his eyes.

"Can you read it?" Angela asked finally.

"Yeah. It's just one thing after another keeps going out on this old meat bag I'm trapped in. I need to visit that faith healer again." Fortunately it wasn't too hard to convince her he was doing God's work. Telepathy had its perks. A long time ago he'd dismissed the possibility of immortality through long-term possession. He wasn't above other means to prolong his life, but that one seemed particularly immoral even to him.

She fell silent and read the menu, setting it aside finally and sitting with her hands folded in her lap. She watched Maury steadily. She wondered about his motives in requiring her to come to lunch with him. She knew about the vengeance, but a small part of her hoped there was something more there. He looked up and set his menu down, smiling genially at her. "What are you getting?"

"A cup of lobster bisque and a half order of the tuna sashimi."

"Mm. That sounds good. I can't decide though. I can't go too far wrong with fish and chips… but on the other hand, they have this linguini alfredo with scallops and stuff. Which do you think I should have?"

She considered it gravely as if this were a weighty decision that warranted a lot of cogitation. She said, "I would think, given your tastes, that the fish and chips would suit you better. It's more pedestrian."

He ignored the insult, if it even was one. Between the two of them, it was more likely to be a simple observation. He made a show of thinking it over in return, then nodded. "I agree. The other might be too heavy – it would make me sleepy later on. I'll follow your advice."

She smiled a little at his mock-seriousness and looked around the restaurant. "It's been years since I was last here. I have no idea what's good these days."

He leaned forward, projecting great interest in her words. "When were you here last?"

She pulled back fractionally. He realized he was coming on too strong. He noticed his napkin, wrapped around his cutlery and leaned back as he unwrapped it. In turn, she leaned forward a bit. It was unconscious body language for her, but calculated on his part. She said, "It must have been twenty years ago. Victoria, Charlotte and I ate here one day for lunch on our way down to DC."

Angela continued looking around. "I suppose they've changed owners. It looks different." She sighed, thinking of the old days.

"What ever happened to Charlotte?"

Her eyes came back to him. His expression looked genuinely curious, but he had a lot of practice wearing the face that evoked the reactions he wanted. "Oh, she moved down to Florida where she lives with her grandchildren, last I heard. Or rather, her grandchildren live with her." She smiled wistfully.

"It's hard to keep a family together in our business. She's lucky."

Angela eyed him. "Yes, she is."

"Too bad about Victoria," he murmured and looked away. Once upon a time, Victoria had been Angela's closest friend. The future, the Company and Adam's solution to all of it had torn a rift between them, but the emotion was still there.

She nodded and started to say something when the waiter came by and took their orders. After he left, Maury said, "Too bad about Adam, too." He watched for her reaction. They'd never spoken of what had happened only a few years before, with the murder of Victoria and Adam's later death at Arthur's hands. Parkman had been a supporter of Monroe's. The Petrellis had not.

"He served his purpose," she said stiffly.

"Which purpose was that?"

"With the Company," she said vaguely.

He decided to push it, asking, "Do you mean reviving Arthur?"

She hesitated. Obviously, that was part of what she meant. She didn't lie to him. "Yes, but what I meant was that he brought us together and set us on the right course, even if he changed his mind later."

"Ah." For the moment, he'd forgotten trying to win her over as old angers stirred in his gut.

She saw him looking sullen, drawing away. It was a very old, very sore point between them, one that had seen more than one founder leave the Company. She couldn't afford to lose Parkman too (and again), especially now. Adam was gone and it didn't matter who had stood where. She leaned forward a little and offered, "Maury, the Company is the right thing to do. Even Adam thought so. We can do so much more together than we can apart."

He looked off to the side, still angry. "Yeah," he said, his tone sarcastic. "Imagine if Arthur were on our side instead of off fucking around by himself, huh?"

She didn't know what had passed between Maury and Arthur just a few years ago when Arthur had killed Adam and recovered from the poison she'd given him. Maury had a lot of reasons to hate her husband. He'd obviously been the man's unwilling thrall, but she was unsure if his obedience to Arthur had ended. So she answered slowly, not sure of what Parkman was really feeling, despite the emotions writ on his face and heavy in his voice. "Yes, that's true. Arthur is not on our side. I did not approve of what he did to Adam. I think it should be clear I would have preferred Arthur did not have that opportunity."

He looked up at her, then at the tablecloth. He rubbed it slowly. "You said you were having dreams that you and he got back together." He didn't like that idea. That was obvious.

She sighed. "They're dreams, Maury, dreams of a happier time. I want a happier time."

"You're lonely," he observed, glancing up long enough to hold her eyes for a second, then away. Patty's observations about himself and his life rang loudly in his mind.

She eyed him silently, wondering what he meant by that. It wasn't said as an invitation or a come-on. He'd stopped trying to hit on her some time back in the conversation. She preferred this Maury, the one who was more honest and open, less manipulative and aggressive, but it was rare she was able to see this side of him. He usually guarded himself too well, provoking people and being flippant.

She thought about his question the previous night asking if she was looking for someone to replace Daniel. That had been a torrid and painfully short affair, cut short by Linderman's death. She hadn't known Maury was aware of it, but given how close he and Daniel were, it wasn't surprising. She'd thought, at the time, that Arthur was dead. She and Linderman had metaphorically danced on his grave, for very different reasons. Now, again, a man wanted her in order to thwart her husband... and yet he seemed to want something more, or was she only seeing what she wanted to see? Finally she admitted, "Yes."

"So am I." He looked around the restaurant at the people there. He didn't look at Angela or imply she was the one he wanted to be with. He hadn't been thinking that before now - he'd never intended to actually get close to her. He'd just wanted to make a scene, make it look like he was after her so he'd have something to throw in Arthur's face the next time he saw him. That was as far as he thought he'd get – he didn't imagine Angela would let him go further despite his powers of persuasion. He thought about Patricia again. Spontaneously, he said into the silence at the table, "You're the closest thing I have to a friend, Angela."

He picked at the tablecloth. "I'd kind of worked things out with Matt. We weren't close, but it was okay. It was working out."

"It's very hard to lose one's family," she said with sympathy.

"Yeah," he kept looking away. He knew he should jump in with something blaming Arthur or drawing her in. He was tired of the game though and said nothing. The waiter brought their meals. They ate in silence. It was empty and stretched between them like they ought to be speaking but weren't. She fiddled with her chopsticks a lot. He fussed with his malt vinegar and lemon wedges. Both tried to look busy with their food.

After she was done and there was no longer a way to maintain the pretense, Angela set her plate aside and said, "Maury, will you be staying with the Company… or will you be leaving? I know… I didn't give you much of a choice last summer. That was unfair."

He looked at her steadily for a while, then took a bite of the fry in his hand. She'd given him more of a choice than Arthur had. At least she'd offered him the escape of death. "What do you mean by that – unfair?"

"I mean I shouldn't have treated you like a common criminal. I should have gone to you. You deserved better than to be hauled in like that." She sounded a little like she was struggling with the admission.

He wondered why she made it at all. He hadn't intimated in the slightest that he was going to leave, though now that he thought about it, twisting their agents and attacking another director was about as 'off the reservation' as one could go. He finished the fry and dipped another in ketchup, thinking that over. There were a lot of things he could do outside of the Company. He had his projects. He glanced up at her. His son was dead. He didn't have any _people_. He'd tried living without people. It made him crazy and hateful. "I'll stay. What else do I have? Like you said last summer, it's a pretty empty life without it."

She furrowed her brow slightly. "I don't recall saying that."

He chewed on the fry. "No, maybe you didn't and I just thought it." He picked up another fry and waved it a bit. "You bring my life meaning." He didn't sound sarcastic so much as literal. "Well, you and the Company. Gives me something to do. Keeps me out of trouble."

She looked around the fancy restaurant and indicated it. "And what is all this about if not getting yourself into trouble?" She gave him a small, knowing smile.

He smiled back. "That's not what it's about anymore." He put his food down and looked at her face with a scrutiny that made her feel naked. If she hadn't known how to block out his mind she would have thought he was reading her. It looked like he was trying to memorize the contours of her face.

"Maury," she said, hoping to get a more appropriate distance and make him stop looking at her like that. It stirred feelings within herself she hadn't had for some time and although she'd agreed to his condition of this lunch with the intention of enjoying his attention, now that she had it she felt unaccountably shy.

"Angel," he answered simply, still looking at her, smiling like he saw something beautiful and lovely.

"You shouldn't…" she faltered and fussed with her napkin, not sure what she was going to say.

"I'd like to get to know you." He tilted his head. "I'd like you to get to know me. Really."

"That's inappropriate," she said sharply. "It won't work out well. Arthur will make you _suffer_." She looked back and forth between his eyes, but he was undeterred.

He cocked his head the other direction. "You've _seen_ that?"

She nodded, looking unhappy about what she'd seen. It had been confusing, like most of her dreams about her personal life. There were too many choices she might yet make to change it.

He smiled warmly, relaxing. "You're worth it, Angela." He meant it. Her vision would tend to indicate he'd succeed. He'd be close to Angela and Arthur would be pissed about it. He didn't care what Arthur might do to him. _Not anymore. Not after losing my son. Not after having Patty of all people point out to me how nice it is to have someone in your life._

He straightened as the waiter came to take their plates away. She ordered a slice of raspberry cheesecake for dessert. When he showed an interest in the dessert, she pushed the saucer over to him and let him have a bite. He savored it and pushed the rest back to her. She ate half the rest and offered it back to him. He thanked her and took it, wondering if she understood the significance of sharing food with someone who had expressed romantic intentions towards you. She did.


	2. Valentine's Day

**A/N: This is set on Valentine's Day (Feb. 14) of 2011, so a little over a month since chapter 1.**

He rang the bell and waited, grinning at the ridiculousness of his appearance carrying a huge, frilly red heart and a dozen long stem roses. A bit stereotypical - yes, but he didn't want his intentions to be misunderstood. The door opened and Angela Petrelli looked surprised. He hoped that was a good thing. He offered her the bouquet of red roses. "For you, my lovely," he said, smiling at her discomfiture. She took them. She could hardly turn them down, but if anyone could have found a way, it would be her. They'd been playing at a game with neither of them entirely sure of the rules, an uncertain dance for over a month now. Every time it seemed like he was getting close, she skittered away defensively.

She turned to take the flowers into the dining room, where she asked Cassie to get her a vase, water and scissors. He let himself in and put the ostentatious box of chocolates on the side table in the entry. Angela walked back to him. He indicated the box. "Also for you, my sweet."

She smiled tightly at him, but the corners of her eyes wrinkled with true amusement. "You're very thoughtful today, Maury." She opened it and selected a piece. He reached past and grabbed one for himself.

"Yeah, well, today's the day for lovers and hopeful hearts." He bounced up and down on his toes for a moment, feeling younger than his years this Valentine's Day. "So what are you doing today? Will you let me take you out?" He tossed the candy in his mouth. He'd taken her out to eat a number of times, but she'd tried to pretend they were on business or he was just being friendly.

She let her smile drift, but inwardly she was pleased by the attention. "No, I don't want to go out, Maury. The restaurants will be thronged with people. You've never liked crowds anyway. I was just enjoying a quiet afternoon." She walked back into the dining room and put the flowers in, arranging them to her taste. It wasn't that he didn't hear the hint - he simply ignored it, just as he ignored her turning her back on him and walking away.

He wandered into the living room and leaned over her chair, looking at the folded newspaper at the crossword puzzle. "Hm. Do you mind if I stay?" he called over his shoulder, reaching down and snagging the paper. He turned it to look at the cryptogram on the opposite side of the fold.

"Would you go if I told you to?" She walked out with the flowers and set them on the coffee table where they would be seen and admired. He'd already come in without invitation, taken one of her chocolates without asking and now he was reading her paper. He was a product of his upbringing, coarse and often uncouth, even so many decades from his youth.

"Of course," he said, insulted. He didn't know where she got ideas like that. He kept looking at the paper, pondering the possible combinations of letters. It was short. The short ones were the most difficult.

She pulled the newspaper gently from his hands and used the scissors to clip out the section he was looking at. She offered it back to him and got an extra pen out of the end table. He smiled suddenly and hurried around the chair to draw up another seat across the table from her. She sat back down and he joined her, pen poised over the code.

After working at it for a bit, he said, "I got it." He read out, "'The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.' Mother Teresa."

Angela listened and repeated the line silently to herself. Finally she said, "I would have expected something more optimistic for Valentine's Day."

"Maybe so," he said. "I don't want to be alone today, Angela." He leaned over the arm of his chair. "Let me help with what you have left there." He gestured at the crossword puzzle and she obligingly read off the next entry. They worked together, talking and relaxing together. She reflected that he wasn't so bad if you could look past the rough edges. He was smart and full of sharp comments and it had been ages since someone had simply spent time with her.

Cassie came out before they were done and asked, "Ma'am? I was going to have Taylor drive me home for the evening. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No, dear. Thank you. I believe Maury and I can take care of ourselves. Have a nice night with Larry."

"Of course." She smiled, cheered that Angela had remembered her fiancé's name. Mr. Grem came through shortly on the way to the garage. He looked between Maury and his employer for a moment, then moved on without comment.

Angela let her eyes slide to Parkman's face after the butler had closed the door after himself. "You heard something." He'd tilted his head in the characteristic manner telepaths seemed inclined to do when listening in on people's thoughts.

He gave her a conspiratorial smile. "Your butler approves of us."

"Does he now?" She smirked.

"Oh yeah. He hopes you get lucky tonight."

She snorted.

"For what it's worth, _**I**_ hope you get lucky tonight too."

She tried to look sternly at him, but it failed as a mischievous smile took over against her will. She fought her features back to calm and spoke icily, "I'll have you know I'm going to watch a movie tonight and then go to bed. Nothing more."

Emotion colored his voice. "That sounds wonderful. Can I join you?"

Her eyes softened and she gave up the pretense of harshness. "Yes." She looked away, not trusting herself.

"Will you let me hold your hand while we watch?" He leaned forward over the arm of his chair even more, looking at her intently, eagerly. He sounded almost childishly hopeful.

She sighed, but kept looking away. He could hear the smile in her voice though when she said, "Yes."

He leaned back as if this was a great concession. "Ah! You know, at my age, that's about as lucky as I can handle."

"That's not true," she said, looking back at him.

He nodded. "Yeah? Well maybe one of these days we'll find out."

She blushed and picked up the crossword puzzle to look at the last few entries that had stumped them.

-----

They had sandwiches for dinner and ate them while watching Gran Torino. She'd opened a bottle of wine. They talked through most of the show. He talked about the old cars he'd driven and how he'd always wanted to have a huge garage full of classic cars so he could drive a different one every day. She mentioned how annoying Clint Eastwood's Adam's apple was, bobbing up and down in a distracting, almost vulgar, fashion. The conversation strayed to immigration and neighborhoods and poverty. It reminded them both of the cryptoquote again, but neither of them mentioned it.

After the show was over, she said she didn't feel like going to bed so she put in another movie. Michael had brought several over for her recently from his collection. The next one was called The Departed. They finished off the wine. Maury sat next to her on the couch and finally got to hold her hand. It was warm and small and soft in his. He held it delicately like it was a baby chick, feeling privileged by the contact.

He could feel her presence strongly through his hand. He felt content to have that awareness of her there. He didn't pay much attention to the movie at first and it quickly became confusing and convoluted, but she was fascinated by the plot. He thought he'd just shut his eyes for a little bit and maybe they'd go back to talking later.

He was vaguely aware of her taking off his shoes. He knew it was her because he reached out with his mind as he roused from slumber and grappled with her mentally. She resisted him and he identified her and then went right back to sleep without ever opening his eyes. He awoke again much later to find he was lying on the couch, covered with a blanket, with a pillow under his head. He was warm and mostly comfortable, but a little stiff. Someone was approaching.

He sat up, recognizing Angela's mind before he could see her. He rubbed at the back of his neck as she came into the living room. It was dim, lit indirectly from the kitchen.

"Oh. I didn't mean to wake you. I forgot how…" She didn't finish. Telepaths were exceptionally sensitive to changes in the environment.

"It's all right. My neck hurts. I was probably sleeping on it wrong anyway."

She walked over behind the couch and brushed his hand away. His eyes flew wide and he held very still. She stroked the back of his neck and then began to massage it, starting at the base of his skull and working downward with firm, even pressure from her knuckles. He relaxed. A score of things ran through his mind to say, most of them snarky. He didn't give vent to any of them, not wanting to spoil it. He didn't even say the nice things that came to mind, afraid he'd break the moment. _Does she know what she's doing? She's practically caressing me._

He sighed under her hands and enjoyed it. She worked out from the knot at the base of his neck to across his shoulders and then back towards his neck. Her hands slid down over his shoulders and stopped suddenly. She lifted them away. _So… no, she didn't,_ he thought. The Petrellis had touched each other all the time, but he wasn't a Petrelli. It was like she'd forgotten that for a moment.

"Did that help?" she asked, her voice perfectly normal - a little too normal.

"That was great. Thank you." He looked back at her and smiled. One of her hands was on the back of the couch. He turned and reached up to cover it with his own. "Thank you."

She smiled. "There's a bedroom down the hall if you'd rather sleep there."

He glanced upstairs in the direction of her room. It seemed awfully forward to suggest anything, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. "When are you going to bed?"

"I might not."

"Hm." He nodded, accepting the refusal. He knew there was some side effect of her ability that meant she rarely slept and not well when she did... so maybe it wasn't a refusal per se. He looked at his watch. It was nearing four. "I think I'll… just make it an early morning. Do you want to go to breakfast with me?" He stood up and stretched, tossing the blanket aside.

"No, thank you Maury. It was a wonderful evening."

He nodded and walked closer to her, looking intently at her body in the dim light. She held her ground even though she felt a little apprehension. His posture was sexually aggressive, possessive. He stopped a little too close to her. He reached out and touched her shoulder, letting his fingers trail down to her elbow. She told him, "I'm not going to kiss you tonight." Her voice held an edge, telling him to back off without saying it out loud.

He heard her tone and understood the unspoken message. He took a half step back and dipped his head a little, becoming more hesitant. He didn't give up entirely though. "Then I'll kiss you." He leaned in, looking at her face one last time in case she wouldn't let him, but her features didn't change. He pressed his lips briefly to her cheek and then slid his hand down her forearm to hers and raised it, kissing the back of her hand. "I hope I'm welcome back some time." He let her hand go and leaned away, still watching her intently, but now looking only at her face.

She felt a thrill at his attention. It brought a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time, quickened her pulse and deepened her breathing. She raised her chin and exhaled, feeling the chill of trace moisture where his lips had touched her. "Yes. You are."

He smiled a little and walked over to the box of chocolates, snagging a couple more. "Maybe next time I won't fall asleep on you. Sorry about that."

"No, Maury, don't be sorry. You're relaxed with me. I know that doesn't come easily for you. It was nice not to spend the evening alone, to hear someone else in the house, even if it was your snoring." She smiled and he chuckled. She'd become convinced he was sincerely interested in _her_, not who he would annoy by chasing her, but instead that he really did just want to be with someone, with her.

She walked him to the door and waved good-bye to him. The house was silent after he was gone. It seemed far quieter than it usually was. She turned on some old love songs to fill the house and every now and then she felt her heart sing along with them.


	3. Luckiest Man Alive

**A/N: This is set in March of 2011, almost four weeks after chapter 2. For those of you who have read the other Shattered Identity stuff, you'll see events discussed here that haven't been in anything else. They're from the sequel, which is still in the works. To sum up those events as they bear on this chapter, Maury has had a long and arduous two days work and is stopping by Angela's place to give her a report on how things are going.**

Maury rang the doorbell on the Petrelli house and scratched idly at the bristles on his cheek while he waited. He supposed he should have gone by his apartment that morning and shaved instead of heading straight back to work. His beard hairs were grey and didn't show up much against his skin until they got a bit longer. He wondered what he'd look like with a beard these days. It had been over a decade since he'd had one. The door opened and Michael Fitzgerald took up most of the space. The blond man studied Parkman carefully and said nothing.

After a long beat, Maury asked, "Are you going to let me in?"

Michael didn't answer. His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. Maury tilted his head and listened. Michael was thinking, _You have to tell me to let you in. Angela said. Tell me to let you in. Is he hearing me? How do I think louder? There's a way that they-_

"Let me in," Maury repeated, this time using his ability to back it up. Michael stepped out of the way immediately.

Michael said, "She's waiting for you in the sitting room."

"Thanks," Parkman said absently, then looked up at Michael. _I really ought to give him some training on mental defenses since she's decided to keep him around longer term._ "Do you like your job?"

"What?"

"I said: do you like your job? What you do here – do you like it?"

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, sure. I do." Michael looked perplexed to have been asked such a thing, but he enjoyed his work. He elaborated, "It's real easy and she's nice. I get to see a lot of people."

Maury snorted softly. _Of course he gets to see a lot more than he was seeing stuck in a cell in Omaha_. Michael had been released from containment for good behavior last August, with his freedom contingent on working for half a year in whatever capacity the Company directed. Angela had picked him up as a bodyguard, though he'd also been used as muscle for a few small missions. He was a cooperative, easy-going fellow and now that the Company wasn't out to get him, he could not care less about opposing them.

Parkman said, "Are you going to keep doing it?" Michael looked faintly alarmed, not sure at all where the director was going with this line of questioning. "You're not slave labor. Not anymore, at least. Your six months was up at the end of January."

The big man nodded. "Yeah, we talked. She talked to me. I know. I asked to stay on. She said yes."

Parkman nodded. "Okay." He made a note to address mental defenses with the bodyguard at some later date. He nodded at Michael to dismiss him and walked to the sitting room.

Angela was waiting for him, having just set aside her laptop. He hooked a thumb back in the direction of Michael and asked her, "How is it that you're waiting for me, you expected me, _**me**_, mind you, and yet you asked him to test me? If you knew I was going to be here, then why bother with a test? You already knew how it would turn out."

"Yes, I did. That's why it was a test you would pass."

He rolled his eyes at the indecipherable answer and sat down in the chair next to her. A small table sat between the two seats. "Now I know why you precogs take drugs all the time. Must be the only thing that makes the world make sense to you."

"Yes, it is," she said distantly.

He glanced at her sharply. "I was being facetious."

"I wasn't."

He sighed. He rubbed his forehead and decided to drop it. He was being grouchy because he was tired.

"How did things go?" she asked.

"Pretty good, actually. You want the full report?"

"Yes, please."

He put out his hand across the table and she slipper hers into his. It wasn't for any reason of closeness, but his gesture told her how fatigued he was from the day that even the slight advantage of contact was something he needed. Hours upon hours of near-continuous use of his ability had exhausted him. It was part of why he was annoyed to be tested at the door. He'd expected to have to relay the information to her telepathically and was husbanding his power as much as possible. To have to squander some of it on a pointless security measure was irritating.

Twenty minutes later, she slid her hand from his and the pain in her mind receded immediately, fading to nothingness as the contact ended. Maury lifted his fingers to his temple and slowly rubbed a small circle. He had no escape from the ache of overextending himself. The pain made him nauseous. He carefully controlled his unruly stomach, though if he had to do much more, his control would slip.

"I think you got all the important parts," he told her.

"Yes, I think so," she said softly and stood. She'd felt what he went through just so she stayed informed. She walked to the side of his chair and stroked his head. He put his hand down and looked up at her in surprise. She smiled at him. "You don't complain."

He snorted. "I complain all the time."

She ran her hand to the back of his head and turned him to face away from her. She put her hands on either side, starting at his temples and massaging his scalp, running her fingers across the slightly oily skin and wispy stray hairs. He slumped and said quietly, "Thank you. You're being really nice. You don't have to do this for me. I'll be fine."

"I know." She worked over his scalp to the base of his neck, then rubbed the muscles down his spine. She came back up lightly along the sides of his neck and then brought her hands around his face as she stood behind him. Her fingers pushed into his jaw muscles and over his cheekbones, then ghosted across his forehead.

"That's… really good," he murmured.

"It's been a long time since I touched a man like this." Her hands fell to his shoulders and rested there for the moment.

He stood up and turned to face her, putting his left hand on her right hip. He rubbed his lips together slightly and leaned in to her. He hesitated for a moment and she turned her head to meet him. He closed the distance and kissed her on the mouth, his hand sliding around to the small of her back and pressing her lightly against him. She put her arms around him and felt his warmth.

He broke the kiss and simply enjoyed the embrace, his cheek against hers. "I'd like to do more. Oh… how I'd like to do more if you'd let me, but Angel, I'm _so_ tired. I'm sorry. My head's killing me. I don't think I _can_." He knew she knew that. The cynical part of his mind thought that was exactly why she was flirting with him like this. He was 'safe' at the moment, incapable of even using his mind against her, much less his body.

She hugged him and said, "Stay until morning. You'll be able to then."

"Stay here, with you?" He drew back so he could see her face. Cynicism be damned. Hope came to life.

"Yes."

He smiled slowly and kissed her again, more lingering and deeper than before.

----

He woke up when the bedroom door opened. She slid into bed with him. He muttered something about snoring and kicking him and something less articulate. She told him to go back to sleep and he did. When he woke later, she was still with him and awake. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked muzzily.

"Yes," she said simply.

"Hm." He got up and visited the facilities and rinsed his mouth out. When he came back, he kicked off his boxers and climbed into bed, rolling over to face her. He ran his hand across her skin, watching her face in the dim light. He couldn't see her expression yet, not after the brightness of the bathroom, but he could feel her presence in his mind. He wasn't trying to read her. He ran his fingers up her arm and across her shoulder, scooting himself closer and propping himself up on his elbow. She was naked under the sheets. He smiled.

She lifted her head a little as he caressed her face, then he leaned in and kissed her gently and softly. He touched her like she was fine porcelain, though he knew full well she was made of sterner stuff. He leaned back, savoring her taste and the impression of her lips against his, willing and sweet. He could feel wisps of her mind through the contact. Touching people's skin with his hands or his face often did that, if he wasn't determined about blocking. He wasn't now - there was no reason to be. He said, "Angela." It was almost a question.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He could see her well enough now to see her smile and even without that, he heard it in her voice as she said, "Maury." Her tone was faintly chiding.

"Yes?" he answered, smiling in turn. He knew he wasn't going to get a similar answer. It just wasn't who she was, certainly not yet. Maybe after they'd been together for a while.

She said in a kind, amused voice, "You always were a sentimental fool underneath all that."

"Mm," he said and leaned in to her again, this time kissing along her cheek towards her ear. "I like it when you talk dirty to me." He let his hand drift lower across her body and after a few minutes she arched her back and then rolled on her side to face him. They embraced.

Their love-making was slow and passionate and careful – neither was in a hurry, they wanted one another, and yet there was the cautious distance of new lovers. After they were done, she left to shower and he lay sprawled out on the bed, thinking, _I am the luckiest man alive. Even if Arthur finds a way to make me pay for this like Angie said he would, this was fucking worth it. _He exhaled happily and stared at the ceiling for nearly a minute. _I wonder how big the shower is? I'll bet it's palatial. _ He got up to find out and slipped under the warm water with her.

It was easily big enough for two and had a built-in seat. She smiled at him with hooded eyes as he entered. He thought about asking if she minded, but didn't. After kissing each other under the water, touching and caressing for a while, he murmured, "Let me wash your back."

She handed him the sponge and shower gel and he worked up suds. She moved the shower head to spray against the wall. He started on the top of her buttocks and worked upwards. She asked, "Maury, do you think a person can ever really change?"

He huffed slightly, scrubbing at her lower back. "For your sake, I hope like hell they can."

She shifted a little and asked, "For my sake?"

"Yeah. My track record with women sucks. At least, the ones I really care about. The one-night stands, that sort of thing, never gave me a problem." He hesitated. "I was… with you… I'm hoping for more than that." He made a few abortive motions with the sponge, then swept up her wet hair and put it over her shoulder. She reached up to help him get it out of the way and their fingers touched, danced and twined together for a moment.

"Mm. I liked it."

He smiled a little at his pang of insecurity at her non-answer. His smile widened as he thought, _Would I have expected anything else from Angela, the consummate realist?_ He rubbed higher, across her shoulder blades and the middle of her back. _ I wonder who she had in mind? Clearly it wasn't me. Maybe herself? Gabriel? _

He thought back to one of his encounters with Gabriel earlier that day. The man had pushed him hard, mentally as well as telekinetically, in a fit of pique about Maury concealing information from him. He'd apologized, but Parkman had been reminded of how frightening a person he was, how quick to move from disagreement to lethal violence if it suited him. He was as bad as Arthur but without the long-term vision, which made him worse (more unpredictable, less reliable) and better (easier to thwart, simpler to manipulate). Gabriel mentioning how he wasn't quite up to three digits in murders didn't help.

"Who were you thinking of?" he asked.

"Arthur."

_Oh, that stings! _ He chuckled. _I stay the night, we sleep together, we make love, I'm here in the shower washing her back and she's thinking of __**him**__. What a way to make me feel wanted, Angie._ He shook his head, grinning ruefully at his own wounded pride. _What did I expect out of this, anyway?_

"What if he has?" he said. "What if he's changed and he's everything now you ever wanted him to be?" He finished with her back. _Would you go back to him? Are you going to dump me already? Guess I'm no good in bed. I knew I should have taken her mind. At least I would have known what I was doing wrong. Assuming performance even matters, which I sort of doubt._

She turned around to face him and said, as if she'd read his mind, "It doesn't matter. He wasn't _here_. You **were**." She spoke more softly. "My future has changed. I've made different choices than the ones I saw myself making before." She wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and she laid her head on his shoulder.

_Different choices? Me rather than him?_ He wanted to ask, but he didn't. Her skin was cool under his hands. He glanced up at the shower head and wished he had telekinesis to redirect it without moving. After a few moments, he reached up to move it so the spray hit her back, rinsing her off and warming her. As he'd expected, though, his motion ruined the moment and she took a step back from him.

She moved her hands smoothly across him, slick with soap and water. "Your turn."

"Sure." He turned and rolled his shoulders, irritated. He'd been enjoying just standing there holding her.

"Stiff?"

"A little. It's not too bad."

"Michael does a very good massage." She lathered up the sponge again.

He chuckled. "Have you been abusing your privileges with the hired help?"

She snorted and began in the middle of his back, spiraling out. "Of course not. He's a good man. Speaking of that though, have you been abusing **yours** with the agents?"

"What? Hey, **she** came on to _**me**_. And I'm… I'm not… we're just friends, that's all." He sounded guilty even to himself.

Angela's hands stopped moving. After a long moment, she said, "Maury… who do you think I'm talking about?"

He blinked and looked over his shoulder at her. Her face was still and severe. "Uh… Patty?"

She smiled slightly, her face softening. "Ah." She blinked. "Yes, I recall… her."

Maury's eyes shifted to the side, thinking of who she must have meant, then back to her. "I haven't touched Claire. Not like _**that**_. It's very basic commands. We can't let someone with her ability be so vulnerable to mental attack. She's the _future_ as much as Gabriel is."

She nodded and started cleaning him again, turning the subject away from her granddaughter. "Patty. Didn't you recommend her to be an agent? She was with Matt."

He nodded. "They broke up. Not well. Yeah, I recommended her. She's a good kid. Lotta potential, I think."

"Your judgment isn't clouded?"

He shrugged. "I'm not seeing her anymore. I didn't see her much to start with either."

"Hm. You said Gabriel put a hole in your head. I don't see it." She reached up and stroked the back of his head, leaving a trail of soap bubbles behind.

"Didn't I tell you? No… I don't think I went over that part. Fatima put me back together. Fuad's bodyguard, laser-eyes, got me across the legs really good and I passed out. She healed me." He avoided mentioning the part where Gabriel had nearly killed him a second time for tasering Peter. "I was about played out at that point anyway, but after she did her thing, I had a second wind. I wouldn't have made it the rest of the night without it. That was a really rough day."

"Things should be better for a while."

"So the Halo thing is going to pan out?"

"I think so."

"What about Peter? Gabriel's about to lose his marbles over me leaving him on ice. I'd assumed that last attack on Pete wasn't reversible and that was that." It had been the topic that provoked Gabriel into assaulting him yesterday – a very light assault by Gabriel's standards (and Maury's too), but it was an attack any way you looked at it. Maury wouldn't tell him why he wouldn't have Fuad and Bandar try to fix Peter.

"Peter will be as he has been." She sighed.

"So it's already happened? Or it hasn't happened yet? You said he was going to stand against us."

"He will and he is." She smiled. "I'm sorry, Maury. It makes sense to me and it probably will to you later."

"You're sure we shouldn't do anything about that?" he pressed.

"Maury, he's my _son_."

He shrugged. She'd done some pretty ruthless things already with her sons, but he nodded and took it on faith, as he did with so many things with her. "Should I have Bandar reverse what he did to him?"

"You don't need to."

He sighed and made an effort not to grit his teeth. _'Don't need to.' That wasn't my question. __**Should**__ I? I've got to know what to do about Peter because without that I can't know how to handle Gabriel. If he keeps hitting me like he has been, eventually he'll kill me and I figure he'll disintegrate my body. That will be that - no coming back if that happens._

She finished his back and rinsed him off. They got out and dried separately. Angela stepped over to him and kissed him deeply. He returned it with interest. When they parted, she ran her hand across his stubble-covered cheek. "You should shave."

"Are you offering your razor, dear lady?" he smiled.

She huffed. "I still have some of Arthur's things here. I have two sons, a male bodyguard and a butler. Surely you can find what you need somewhere around here."

He looked her up and down and thought, _I have what I need, that's for sure._ He started searching through drawers for shaving cream and razors anyway.

**A/N: I really don't know why, after being excruciatingly graphic for Patty and Maury, that I felt it was inappropriate to be too detailed for Angela and Maury. It just felt like something that needed to be left private. I don't always understand my head.**

**The end, probably.**

**If you like my writing and you want to encourage me on the sequel to Shattered Identity, then leave a review – even a short one!**


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